Repurposed | Quirrel x Sheo x Nailsmith

Chapter Twenty: In Which Quirrel Remembers Someone

Quirrel's still awkward, but he's talking now.

Sheo and him were in the garden making light conversation. Quirrel would likely never get over how beautiful Sheo's garden was, and found himself commenting on it quite a bit. Each and every plant practically glowed from the delicate love and care that Sheo gave them every day. Not a single leaf had so much as a nick on its end.

"You could write a care guide on gardening, Sheo," Quirrel said as he examined a particularly juicy tomato. "I'm sure if any bug were to lay their eyes on this beauty, they'd buy one in a heartbeat."

Sheo shook his head, though he kept his focus on tenderly picking out the weeds that had snaked themselves around his crops. "I couldn't do that. I'm not good at writing at all."

Quirrel studied the strawberry plants just a bed over. The ripe fruits were so vibrantly red, he just had to pick them. "If there were anyone left to sell to, you could even start up your own shop. You could be exclusive too, and make bugs pay double, no, triple."

Sheo shook his head again as he laughed. "I wouldn't do that either. It takes a lot of work running a shop, I'm not sure if I could pull it off. And even if I could, I wouldn't be selling produce. Gardening is just a hobby of mine. I picked it up to improve my health and to give me something to do as a break from painting. Honestly, I have no clue what I'm doing to make these little ones grow so well. I promise you, I'm not doing anything any farmer doesn't know about. It amazes me as much as it does you."

Quirrel picked the last ripe strawberry he could see, placing it into his basket more delicately than necessary. "Perhaps it's the Greenpath soil, light, and temperature that's making the crops flourish as they are." If there's anything that Quirrel loves, it's a good mystery.

"That's what I've always assumed," Sheo said, tossing the last weed into the pile. "It's so warm here that nothing goes out of season. All I do is weed the beds and keep them watered, it's not much."

Qurriel took a glance over to Sheo and watched as he picked up his watering can, the one carefully handmade by The Nailsmith, and watered his plants with a happy hum. He looked so content, so at peace. Quirrel supposes it isn't such a mystery after all as to why the garden grows so beautifully.

It's because Sheo loves it.

"I think that's more than enough for you little ones to drink," Sheo addressed his monster-sized crops as if they were babies. "We don't want those roots to rot now do we?" He picked himself up and dusted the dirt off his apron, still looking at his 'children' fondly. "I just have one more thing to do, Quirrel, and then we'll be back up." Sheo made his way over to the corner of the garden, and as Quirrel watched he could see him stop at the flower bed.

"I've been wondering why you grow flowers in your garden," Quirrel said as he went to kneel next to Sheo, who was already on his knees and rummaging through the pocket on his apron. This is where Quirrel would go whenever The Nailsmith had crafted a new vase, hand picking whichever flowers he thought should be displayed. "Are they for decoration?"

"Not quite," Sheo found what he was looking for and pulled out a pair of scissors. "I use them to make pigments. I'm not going to be running out of paint anytime soon, but I think it's about time I get to work replenishing my stock." He started to collect the petals of the flowers, sniping them from their stems and placing them in his basket.

"You make your own paints?" Quirrel asked as he leaned in closer, inhaling the pleasing scents of the flowers.

Sheo nodded. "I do, though it's certainly a process. It takes more time than skill, and thankfully I have all the time in Hallownest."